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He doesn't shift his weight or startle when I press my knee into the mattress.
The moon is big enough tonight that it's shining a little light in the room. Although most of his handsome face is cast in shadows, I know the moment he opens his eyes. I sense his attention on me even if I couldn't see it for myself.
There's a certain kind of power Beck has, and although he could, he never seems to want to use it against me. I don't know if acting like he's an innocent hero is part of his game or if he's just genuinely a nice person.
He doesn't pull away when I press one hand into his pillow on the opposite side of his head.
He doesn't argue or ask me what I'm doing when I lower my mouth until it's just a breath away from his.
He is hesitant at first when I press my lips to his, but his sharp intake of breath and the way he shifts a little on the mattress tells me that if he isn't interested, he's at least curious.
When I swipe my tongue at his lips, urging them open, he doesn't deny my entry.
The groan that erupts from his throat does more to me than it should, and I sort of hate his ability to draw that sort of reaction from me.
I have to keep reminding myself that this is payment, that I'm giving him something he wants because he's been so nice to me.
I lower myself down, letting some of my weight settle against his body, but he doesn't reach for me. He doesn't flip me on my back and take what he wants. The man doesn't even touch me despite his need, because I know he's gripping the blanket under his hips.
He doesn't move until I run my hand down that line of muscles on his abdomen, on its way to the front of his sweatpants.
He grips my hand in his, but I feel exactly how much I'm affecting him before he manages it. He doesn't have a strong hold on my hand, but I know he'll tighten it if I try to touch him again.
"Let me," I say.
"You don't have to do this," he says, his thumb massaging the back of my hand in a way that feels much more intimate to me than having a handful of his cock would.
"You've been so nice to me," I explain. "I owe you."
He shakes his head, his free hand coming up to cup the side of my face. He frowns when I flinch, fearful that he's going to strike me.
"Jesus." His voice is a whisper, and I hear the curse of both Xan and Nathan in it."You owe me nothing, but if you feel the need, a thank you is enough."
Tears burn the backs of my eyes for only a second before they crest my lower lids and fall to his t-shirt-covered chest.
I feel like a whore. I know what no sounds like even though the men in my previous life never did, but when I pull away, he doesn't let me get very far.
I don't know why the rejection stings so badly. I should be ecstatic that he isn't expecting me to follow through with pleasing him in exchange for the help and support he's offered me.
"You're more than welcome to stay in the bed though," he says. Honestly, I really think he's giving me options, and from the sound of it, he'd be okay with either decision I make. That has to be a first for me.
With Xan and Nathan, options were always tied with tests and challenges. There was always one choice more correct than the others, and I don't think they knew which one was right even when they offered them.
I climb off him, shifting my weight more to the center of the bed rather than settling back on the edge. Beck rolls away from me, pointing his back in my direction. It tells me one of two things—either he trusts me to be back here or he believes I'm not a threat.
It would probably be best if I climbed out of his space and went back into the closet, but every muscle in my body aches. Just sitting here on the mattress is enough to tell me that this bed is more than a little comfortable.
I start chewing on my thumbnail, anticipating him telling me to lie down or get out, but he never does.
After a few minutes, I lie flat on my back and stare up at the ceiling. Clouds moving in front of the moon cast even more shadows, but the eeriness that normally hits me doesn't show up.
I lie there for at least two more hours before climbing under the covers, sure that my shivering in the cold room has been keeping him awake, but he never says another word.
I toss and turn for another hour before falling asleep beside him.
Chapter 17
Newton
